Reflections
by jesuisl0ser
Summary: Arthur loses his memory, and is left to piece together the memories and experiences that make up the life he once knew. But when old values bleed into new, Arthur discovers truths about magic, justice, and about love. Eventual Merlin/Arthur. Pre-Series 3
1. Chapter I

Prince Arthur Pendragon strode into his quarters, drunk on a combination of red wine and euphoria. Or maybe it was the wine that instigated the euphoria. Arthur wasn't sure.

His proud procession through the doorway was accompanied by the seemingly ever-present prattle of his manservant, Merlin, behind him. "Sire, be careful. Remember last time when you walked right into the wall? I never heard the end of it when you woke up the next day with a big bruise even though it wasn't my fault-"

"_Mer_lin," Arthur drawled, clasping a hand on Merlin's bony shoulder, "It's my _birthday_. I can walk into a wall if I want to."

Merlin chuckled a bit before his eyebrows furrowed in concentration once again as he shuffled round to prepare Arthur's bed for sleeping, fluffing up the pillows and doing whatever else it was manservants did and oh, hell, Arthur thought, when did the room start spinning?

Arthur stumbled forward, hiccuping, and Merlin looked up from his fumbling with the bed sheets. "Sire, come on." He walked back over to Arthur and wrapped an arm around his torso, bringing him to sit on the bed. "I don't think I've ever seen you this tipsy. But it's your birthday celebration, so I suppose I would've done the same if I were you."

"You-" Hiccup. "-Drunk, Merlin? That would be a sight," Arthur replied with a bemused grin.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "According to Gaius, who's seen me after a good night at the tavern, it is."

Arthur laughed loudly and Merlin laughed with him. Merlin was nice when he wanted to be, Arthur absently mused as Merlin helped him remove his layer upon layer of clothing. Occasionally, he wasn't that much of an imbecile.

He felt suddenly that it was vital for Merlin to know this, so he opened his mouth to say it. But then he saw something odd behind Merlin that he'd never noticed before.

Arthur was no girl, and he certainly didn't need a large mirror decorating his room so he could admire his pretty clothing. No, sir. He was no Morgana Le Fay.

But there was a small one, silver, square-shaped and simple, that sat atop his dresser, just for, you know, manly clothing issues. Nothing more.

And that mirror was sparkling.

Arthur stared and stared, entranced.

"Arthur?" was Merlin's voice, although sounded as if it came from far away, "Are you all right?"

Then curiosity got the best of him, as it always did. Despite Merlin's protests of "Arthur, don't," and "Well, don't yell at me when you fall flat on your face", he got up and wandered over to the mirror, examining it with wary eyes. What was it doing? He could hear a whispering, a chattering around him that made his insides do backflips.

_-_

"Arthur!"

The Prince jumped a bit at Merlin's voice as it finally managed to drown out the others, wide-eyed. The glowing and glistening abruptly stopped. Merlin followed his gaze to the mirror, then looked back at him again. "Arthur, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Didn't you see . . . " Arthur started, but Merlin's especially confused expression (which said a lot, considering Merlin seemed to be perpetually perplexed) told him no, Merlin hadn't seen a damn thing. So he shook his head. "I . . . I'm fine," he finished, not wanting to even remotely hint to his growing apprehension toward the small shiny square before him.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost,"Merlin went on carefully.

Arthur attempted to roll his eyes but he was a bit too dizzy to make it come off as casual, so he sauntered to his bed and flopped down onto the pillows again instead. "It's nothing, Merlin," was his reply; at least, that's what he intended for his reply to be, but he wasn't sure if the slur of his words had butchered that just a bit. He'd clearly had way too much to drink tonight.

This all must be part of his wild, alcohol-induced imaginings, he concluded, and nothing more.

Merlin seemed to understand his words, because he got up from his seat on the edge of Arthur's bed and wandered to the flickering candle at Arthur's bedside. "Will you be all right?" he asked.

Arthur waved an absent hand. "Of course. Quit your worrying, will you? You're jumping around like a frightened rabbit."

Merlin smiled down at him, and Arthur saw all the sincerity in the world in his eyes as he dead-panned: "Your insults aren't up to par tonight, my lord. It's _definitely_ time for you to rest."

"Oh, shut up, you." Arthur made the motion to throw a pillow at Merlin, but his drunken limbs failed him and he settled down into the covers once more. He closed his eyes, a part of him listening for those terrible words again, loud and fast and strong.

"If you need anything, let me know," was Merlin's voice nearby, and Arthur very much liked the sound of hearing only one voice besides his own in his chambers. It was only him and Merlin and Arthur felt safe. Then again, he always did, with Merlin. For some reason, the idiot tended to invoke those feelings in Arthur. Strange . . .

Oh, _hell,_ was he drunk.

He heard Merlin blow out the candle and say, "Goodnight, sire," before heading out of the room.

There was a peaceful silence that began to lull the Prince to sleep, until suddenly, sharp in the darkness, were the words again.

_Come to us. Come to us._

Arthur sat upright, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head of the beginnings of a hangover, and immediately drew his sword from its spot on a nearby table.

He gingerly stood up, making his way over to the mirror, which was glowing silvers and yellows in the blackened room.

"Show yourself," Arthur spat, "Tell me what you want from me."

Suddenly, in the mirror was a face, one of the most terrifying Arthur had ever seen; twisted and snarling, its eyes seeming to reach right through the silver to Arthur himself-

And then everything went black.

* * *

><p><p>

"Rise and shine, sire!" came a voice out of the darkness.

The blonde man slowly opened his eyes, his vision caked with sleep and the light in the room seeming far, far too bright. And the chipper voice moving around him simply would not stop, and he didn't like it one bit. He matched the voice to a skinny, dark-haired boy who was darting around the room, picking up this trinket and that, whistling a bit.

"It's almost eleven, you know," the boy went on, "But everyone's having a late start this morning, I think. With the feast yesterday and all."

The blonde sat up, his gaze following the other man as he moved about. The dark-haired one paused in mid-step as he noticed the staring.

"Erm . . . Arthur, are you okay?"

_Arthur. Is that my name?_ He paused, getting used to the idea. Arthur. I'm Arthur. Arthur who? _Why don't I . . . _

"Arthur?"

_Why don't I remember anything?_

"Sire-"

What if this is some sort of elaborate plan to kill me? Diving into panic-mode, Arthur thought of all of the possibilities. Had he been drugged? Knocked upside the head?

But for what reason? Arthur couldn't think of any.

But that may have been because in order to think of a reason why one might want to kill him, he would have to know just exactly who he was first.

So he finally mucked up the courage to ask the pressing question, carrying in his voice as much confidence as possible: "Who are you? I demand to know."

He watched the boy's expression switch from mild confusion to amusement. "I really underestimated how much you had to drink last night, my lord. I should've cut you off sooner," he chuckled.

When Arthur provided no reply but a stony-faced stare, Merlin's face once again changed, this time to an expression of unadulterated panic. "Arthur . . . you really don't know?"

Silence. Then:

"I'm . . . I'm Merlin. Your servant. Remember?" _I have servants?_

Well, this was good, then. He couldn't imagine why someone who was supposed to serve him would want to kill him. Of course, it was a possibility (anything was at this point), but Arthur somehow felt that this Merlin, whoever he was, didn't have any bad intentions behind his worried gaze.

The name, too, rang something oddly familiar in Arthur's mind, but he couldn't quite place what it was. "Merlin," he echoed, his tension easing just a bit, "Right. Merlin. That's good. More importantly, though . . . "

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, staring out into the bright light of the morning. "Who exactly am I?"


	2. Chapter II

**A/N: Hey, everyone! I'm surprised there was even interest in this fic (or me, for that matter-I've been away from this site for a while if you don't count updates to "It's About Power"), but I'm glad you've enjoyed the first chapter. Just a few things:****  
><strong>**And, for you history buffs out there, or for people who're just curious-mirrors back in this time period (or _around_ the time period in which the show is set) were made of silver, as glass hadn't been invented. And,  
><strong>A DISCLAIMER: Merlin belongs to BBC and Shine. This was written for entertainment purposes only.<br>**Anyway, enjoy chapter two!**

* * *

><p>"All right. Let's start with what you <em>do <em>remember," said Merlin.

Arthur stood awkwardly in the center of the room-his own room, he'd guessed by now-as Merlin fidgeted with the ties on Arthur's tunic.

"Er," Arthur muttered, "Do you always do this?"

Merlin blinked. "Do what?"

"Help me, uh . . . dress."

"Oh, not all the time, but . . . you never get these ties right." Merlin's tone was almost endearing, and he was looking at Arthur as if he were searching for something in Arthur's own eyes that was no longer there. His hands lingered at Arthur's chest for a moment before he awkwardly pulled them away, clasping them behind his back. "And it's, er, part of my job. Right. So. What do you remember?"

And then the realization hit Arthur like a sharp blow to his chest as he fished through his memory, desperately, to find nothing beyond opening his eyes that very same morning.

He staggered into a nearby chair, sinking slowly into it. "Nothing," he replied softly, staring down at his hands, "There's nothing."

Merlin silently made his way over to the table in front of Arthur, leaning against it and meeting Arthur's gaze. "We'll figure it out, Arthur. It's all right."

"You never answered my question, Merlin." Despite its familiarity, Merlin's name sounded strange on his tongue. Then again, everything felt strange. Like it didn't belong. "I want to know who I am."

Merlin smiled a little bitterly. "That's a loaded question."

Arthur wasn't sure what Merlin was supposed to mean by that, but listened as he went on: "But for starters, you're Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot."

"A _prince_?" Arthur sputtered, his eyes wide, "Really? I suppose that explains this lavish room."

"Lavish?" Merlin said, "Funny. You always complain about the drapes. Although . . . " He furrowed his eyebrows a bit. "I guess you don't remember doing that."

Arthur shook his head. There was a lingering, awkward silence between the two until Merlin spoke up.

"We should speak with Gaius. He'll know what to do." Merlin tugged at Arthur's arm, helping him up and leading him out of the room.

"Right," said Arthur, "Yeah . . . who's Gaius?"

* * *

><p>King Uther Pendragon stood in the cramped space of Gaius' living room, trying not to let the concern clearly etched in his brow give way to the worry in his heart. It wouldn't do for him to show his fear now. Not in front of his son.<p>

"I've never seen anything like it," Gaius the Court Physician mused, peering at Arthur quizzically. Arthur sat in a chair surrounded by Gaius' many herb remedies and the like, looking very lost. There was a blankness in his gaze that sent chills down Uther's spine.

Part of what made a good king was experience. And in just the past twenty years, Arthur had taken part in experiences that would remain with him for a lifetime.

Or, rather, they were _supposed_to. The man Arthur had slowly been shaping into appeared to have fled in the blink of an eye, and now there seemed to be nothing left of Uther's son but a shell.

"Are you sure he couldn't have fallen?" Merlin offered, "Maybe . . . in the middle of the night? Fallen and hit his head?"

"This isn't consistent with any type of head injury," Gaius replied, "He was able to tell me the year; he could identify the numerous objects I placed in front of him. He doesn't appear to have any problems with muscle control or movement . . . " He trailed off, and Uther could no longer help but ask:

"Do you think it is sorcery, Gaius?"

The elderly man looked Uther in the eyes, sadness in his stare. "It may be, my lord."

"Then we must find who or what has done this, and destroy it. I do not care how long it takes. The people need their future King."

Uther reached over to place a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "My son," he said.

Arthur simply looked at him. Unable to bear the look in the boy's eyes any longer, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>"That went . . . well."<p>

Merlin's quiet tone contrasted sharply with the sing-song voice Arthur had woken to that morning. They were heading outside to watch Arthur's knights train, as Gaius had determined the best thing for Arthur to do was expose himself to his regular routine, should anything spark a memory or two.

So to the courtyard they went, side by side. Uther had spread word throughout the castle quickly of Arthur's condition, and had informed the people that Arthur was "ill" and would not be in the public eye for some time.

Knights stood in rows of vibrant reds and silvers, their swords reflecting the midday sunlight. They were evidently working on a repetitive set of drills, as a man with light brown hair called out numbers toward the front of the group: "One! Two! Three! Four!"

Arthur crossed his arms, impressed. "They seem . . . fit," he said eloquently. He nodded to the shouting man, "Is he the one who trains them?"

Merlin bit his lip. Arthur found in the course of the last few hours that Merlin tended to do that when he was nervous or apprehensive, so it wasn't much of a surprise when he replied, "No. You're the one who trains them . . . usually. That's Sir Leon. Your father appointed him to take over while you're . . . recovering."

"Oh."

Arthur squinted at the men as they worked, wondering if they'd be doing as well if he himself were standing in Leon's place, barking orders at them. What constituted a good training session, anyhow? He sighed.

A sudden thought occurred to him, so he piped up again: "My father . . . he didn't seem . . . He seemed so . . . cold."

Merlin nodded. "That's just how he is."

"Are we close? He and I?"

Merlin paused, and Arthur could tell he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "You admire him very much, sire. He cares for you."

"Hm." Arthur leaned against the castle wall, absently watching the knights practice blocking. "And my mother? Where's she? I've got to have a mother somewhere around here, right?" The last part was meant as a joke, but the look on Merlin's face told him it was no laughing matter at all.

Merlin was quiet for a moment before he replied, "Your mother . . . she passed away when you were little. You . . . you never knew her."

"Oh," Arthur said again, and he couldn't help but think that maybe this Arthur Pendragon led a very lonely life.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin said gently. Arthur felt the sensation of Merlin's hand on his arm, and he didn't pull away.

* * *

><p>This was not the first time that Merlin felt completely and utterly useless. But the feeling was especially strong this time around as he watched, with an aching heart, Morgana and Arthur conversing at the Pendragon dinner table.<p>

"You . . . you don't remember me?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Arthur shook his head solemnly. "I . . . I'm sorry. I am."

Merlin could see Arthur becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation, as Morgana pressed on:

"But . . . you're like a brother to me."

Arthur rubbed his forehead wearily, and Uther said quietly, "Enough, Morgana. There's nothing we can do for now." His voice was jagged with frustration and anger, more so than ever.

Merlin took this opportunity to shuffle over to the table and refill Arthur's cup with water, exchanging a sympathetic glance with him.

Merlin's job wasn't just to serve Arthur. It was to protect him. And there were so very many secrets he'd been forced to keep since his arrival at Camelot in order to do just that: protect. Because it was his destiny, one that was eternally and unavoidably entwined with Arthur's.

Now, the Once and Future King was somewhere out of reach, and the guilt Merlin felt for not having been able to save him was a throbbing pain that seemed to reach into his very core.

"If you'll both excuse me . . . " was Arthur's voice suddenly, pulling Merlin away from his thoughts. Arthur stood up and practically tripped out of the room hastily, and Merlin followed him down the corridor.

"Arthur, wait!" he called.

The Prince whirled around, his eyes flaring, and for a moment Merlin saw the passionate spirit that used to emanate from Arthur's every motion. It slipped away quickly, replaced by utter confusion and anguish. "Why has this happened to me?" he said softly. "What am I supposed to do? What would the man who owns this body do?"

"Arthur," Merlin said, trying his best to be soothing as the man began to pace, "You do own this body. This is you . . . without the, erm . . . _you_ part?" He waited for Arthur to snap something wittily insulting in his direction after that poor explanation, but then he remembered Arthur may not be doing anything _Arthur_-like anytime soon.

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I wouldn't know, would I? I don't remember anything. I can't be my father's son. And Morgana . . . I didn't even know who she was until all of five minutes ago!"

"I'm sorry," Merlin choked out, barely able to watch Arthur look so utterly lost, "I'm so sorry, Arthur."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because it's my job to protect you," Merlin blurted out, and immediately regretted doing so.

Arthur paused in mid-step, cocking his head to the side. "Protect me? What do you mean?"

_Oh. _"I . . . what I meant was . . . " He trailed off, blushing a bit, recalling all those moments that Gaius would chastise him for opening his big mouth. "Just . . . nevermind. You've got too much else to worry about."

For all his _not _acting like Arthur, the man raised his eyebrows in such a way that Arthur very well would, and said before turning to walk away, "There's . . . something about you, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes widened at the words that had been spoken to him when he and Arthur had first met a few years prior. And a thought occurred to him.

Who knew how long it would take for him and Gaius to retrieve Arthur's memory? Until, then, though . . .

"Er, Merlin?"

The boy looked up to face Arthur, who stood a few feet away from him. "This castle is quite large. Do you mind directing me to my room?"

Merlin couldn't help but smile a bit. "Of course, sire."

Until a remedy was found, Merlin knew there was a part of the real Arthur, however seemingly tiny or unnoticeable to anyone else, that was still there inside him. And Merlin just had to help Arthur find it.


	3. Chapter III

Arthur made his way down the vast palace hallway, and watched with mild fascination as servants and nobility alike stepped aside hastily and bent their heads as he passed by.

Was this normal day-to-day behavior here in Camelot? Arthur awkwardly tried to catch someone-anyone's eye, but failed miserably. He figured the real Arthur, whoever that may be, was accustomed to this sort of thing, but still, it was a bit unnerving.

Not to mention the hushed whispers behind him that crawled up and nestled into his mind as he kept walking: "The King says he's gravely ill . . . some kind of memory loss . . . do you think he'll recover? . . . He actually tried to look at me."

Frankly, Arthur was sick of people talking about him as if he weren't there. Then again, _he _wasn't. Not the true him, anyway. All these people around him had lived through a childhood, maybe raised a family of their own. Memories presented themselves in old battle scars over the eye or wrinkles in a smile. They all had something to hold themselves to the world besides the mere force of gravity. He hadn't.

"Arthur?"

He whirled around, grateful for the distraction from his own thoughts, to see a young woman gazing at him, her head tilted to the side in an expression of concern. She was pretty-too pretty for the bland serving clothes she wore. She tentatively moved toward him, asking, "How are you?"

This was a rare moment in which Merlin wasn't around. He'd gone off to help Gaius, and therefore Arthur was stuck looking at unfamiliar faces with no names attached to them. He could really use the boy's help right about now, he thought.

He decided to avert the woman's gaze and reply, "As well as can be expected, I suppose. Thank you." Did she expect him to know her? Because Arthur surely didn't.

His question was answered when the woman reached up and cupped his face in her hand, smiling gently. "I don't believe you've forgotten _everything_. A part of you must be in there, Arthur. Somewhere." She stroked his cheek.

Arthur pulled away, surprised at the abrupt gesture, and the look of hurt in her eyes told him it may not have been the best decision.

"You don't remember me," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Arthur replied lamely.

"I'm Gwen," she went on, and Arthur saw her eyes brim with tears a bit, "We know each other well."

"Right . . . "Arthur said, "I really am sorry. I wish I could remember."

"You're so strong," the woman said reassuringly, "You'll get through this." She touched his arm, and he stiffened at the unfamiliarity of it.

He could see that she sensed this, for she furrowed her eyebrows and said, "Is this . . . uncomfortable for you?"

"It's just . . . for you it may not be, but . . . " Arthur replied sincerely, "But this is all new to me. Again, I'm sorry, er . . . what was your name?" He felt his face grow hot.

She looked at him for a moment before replying flatly, "It's Guinevere. And I care for you very much, Arthur."

"I didn't-"

She turned on her heel and walked away before he could say another word.

* * *

><p>Arthur was very quizzical lately, Merlin mused.<p>

Normally he'd hurry away with the excuse of "doing chores" or "helping Gaius" and Arthur would never give it a second thought. Now, though, there were questions attached to his every move: "Where're you going?" "Where's that?" "Is there something I should be doing?" Merlin knew Arthur was getting restless with all the not-knowing, so he answered every inquiry with patience, but of course he'd never reveal the whole truth.

Arthur, memories intact or not, could never know the truth.

When Merlin had first been told it was his destiny to protect Arthur, he'd been less than thrilled. But as he was forced to get to know Arthur, Merlin began to understand how much the Prince truly carried on his shoulders, and how much of a good man he really was. Sometimes he felt he knew Arthur better than the man knew himself, and Merlin had a feeling Arthur knew that, too, although he wouldn't ever admit it outright. The two had put their lives on the line for one another again and again, and general _prattiness_ aside, Arthur was the bravest, most honorable man Merlin had ever known. The one he'd _always _be willing to risk his life for, be it his destiny or not.

Fact was, Arthur needed Merlin's guidance now more than ever. Which was why Merlin was heading down the darkened stairwell in the depths of the castle to visit an old friend whom he hoped could help him do that.

Torch in hand, he made his way to the dungeon entryway, calling out, "Hello?"

Sure enough, Kilgharrah the dragon swooped in from his perch above, chains rattling and echoing into the darkness. "Ah, young warlock. I've been expecting you."

"So you know what's going on with Arthur?" Merlin lifted the torch in front of his face, illuminating the Dragon's golden-brown scales.

"The walls speak between their creaks and cracks, Merlin. The Prince is in grave danger of losing the very essence of himself forever."

"How do I stop it?" Merlin asked, desperation scratching at the edges of his tone. "I need . . . the kingdom needs him back."

"The answer will be apparent to you soon, Merlin." The Dragon shifted, extending its wings to prepare for flight. "Until then, you must tread carefully. Secrets will come to light, and destiny does not wait for anyone."

_Secrets? What is he on about? _Merlin knew the point of arguing with the Dragon about his cryptic words was surely moot, so he watched as the Dragon ascended into the air once more before fleeing himself, the flickering light of the torch dancing beside him.

* * *

><p>"Girls are strange."<p>

Merlin shuffled into Arthur's chambers to find the Prince sitting at his table staring at an apple in his hands, looking very much lost in thought.

Merlin laughed. "Well," he replied, "your attitude about that certainly hasn't changed, sire. Can I ask what happened?"

"A woman approached me today and . . . I'm afraid I hurt her feelings. She went off in a huff."

_Arthur blatantly hurting someone's feelings. Now that's something new_, Merlin thought to himself, amused. He moved to clear Arthur's dinner from the table and asked, "Who was it?"

"Guinevere. As if I could forget her name after my disastrous run-in with her."

"Oh," Merlin said, and then his eyes widened a bit. "_Oh_."

Arthur rubbed the dull skin of the green apple, seemingly studying Merlin's expression. "Was she . . . are we . . . together?" he asked.

"Not exactly," was Merlin's careful reply. Arthur and Gwen's relationship had always been a matter of treading careful waters to begin with . . .

"Do I love her?"

The question lingered in the air for a moment, until Merlin finally gathered the courage to speak up: "It is not my place to say, Arthur. But you do care for one another. She is a servant, though, so . . . it's forbidden."

He saw Arthur's eyes flash with interest as he replied, "How can one be forbidden to love someone else?"

"That's just how it is," Merlin said quietly.

"It's silly," Arthur replied bluntly.

Merlin smiled a bit bitterly. "Then maybe when you become king, you can make it right."

Arthur sighed again, leaning back in his chair, the light of the candles in the room flickering in the reflection of his blue eyes. There was that furrowed, thoughtful brow Merlin knew so well as he spoke: "It's funny. You'd think if I was in love with her, I would've felt something. A spark, or what have you . . . even though I can't remember her."

Merlin tried to ignore the leap in his chest he couldn't help but feel. "That's not your fault. Gaius and I will fix this. I promise."

He walked up behind Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking on as Arthur continued to examine the apple in his hand. The real Arthur would've pulled away from Merlin's touch by now, and despite missing what would've been his shouts of "Don't be such a _girl_, Merlin" it was a nice change to see the Prince recognizing his supportive gesture.

"Do I even like apples?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Merlin picked up the silverware in front of Arthur and retorted, "Yes. But you prefer grapes. Just so you know."

Arthur chuckled a bit, and it was the first time he'd heard him laugh in what seemed like ages. "I suppose you would know that, being my servant and all. You know . . . " He turned to face Merlin in his seat, eyes alight, "I'm developing a whole new personality now. I could be anyone at all. And you still trust me."

"Of course I do," Merlin said quickly, staring down at the plates in his hands, "You're still Arthur somewhere in there."

Arthur looked at him for a moment, and then Merlin heard him say, with deep sincerity, "Thank you, Merlin."

Nearly dropping the pile of dishes he was holding, Merlin gaped at him stupidly, a goofy grin spreading across his face before he could control it.

"Uh, Merlin? What is it?"

"You _never _thank me," Merlin gushed, a laugh on his lips, "for anything. Ever. Just let me take a moment to adjust to this." He chuckled heartily, expecting Arthur to laugh with him, but instead he saw an almost sad look in the other man's eyes.

"Really?" he said softly. "Never?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Well . . . I mean, you just . . . it's not something you think of, I suppose. I don't mind. I'm used to it."

Arthur looked down at his lap, speaking in an almost-whisper. "Is that why . . . Why is it people are surprised when I look at them?"

"Sorry?" Merlin shook his head a bit, confused. What exactly was he getting at?

"Am I . . . What kind of person am I if I don't even-"

But his words were cut off by a sharp, abrupt yell. Merlin gasped as Arthur fell to his knees, clasping his hands to his ears, his voice rising more and more with every second.

"Arthur!" Merlin ran to him, grabbing his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"They're whispering . . . in my head, they're all whispering!" Arthur's voice cracked, and Merlin's heart sank at the sight of the other man's eyes, wild with fear.

Time seemed to barely pass at all, moving in excruciatingly slow increments as Arthur paced and muttered and Merlin tried to calm him down. Seeing him so incredibly helpless was something Merlin wasn't used to. Something was inside Arthur's head, trying to hurt him, and must have been connected to what had taken away his memory.

When it all finally ended, Arthur gingerly sat on his bed, his eyes seeming to gaze right through the floor.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked, sitting down next to Arthur carefully.

Arthur didn't move, but his voice, however trembling, was unmistakably clear: "Do not leave, Merlin."

Merlin didn't. Instead, he kept his arm firm around Arthur's shaking shoulders, in silence.


	4. Chapter IV

**A/N: Hope you all are enjoying the story. DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'Merlin', this is just for fun.**

* * *

><p>Arthur Pendragon watched idly as Sir Leon strode down the great hallway of the throne room, bowing in front of Uther, the Lady Morgana, and Arthur himself.<p>

"Sire," Sir Leon said, "The other knights and I have been searching for any signs of the use of magic throughout the kingdom in the past few days. We have unfortunately found nothing as of yet."

"Then _keep looking_," Uther spat, and Arthur wondered if he was always like this. He watched the man crouched in his chair, his eyes cold and menacing and his face twisted into what seemed to be a permanent scowl.

He seemed so very bitter, Arthur thought, and he wondered why. As Sir Leon disappeared down the vast corridor, Uther turned to Arthur and said, "We will not rest until the sorcerer behind this mess is put to death."

It sounded so harsh, and apparently Arthur's thoughts were practically splayed across his face, for Uther went on, "You do not remember now, my son, but a part of you must know deep down the true evils of sorcery. Those who practice it seek only harm. You must be wary of this."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw a flash of something strange move across Morgana's face for a minute, as if she were about to open her mouth in protest. It faded quickly, though.

Magic is what took all his memories away. Magic is evil. Those who practice magic don't deserve to live.

Something seemed not quite right to Arthur about all of that, but he chose to keep it to himself. He was getting used to what life was like around here, and the best thing for him to do was to speak only when spoken to.

He did know everyone by name at this point, though. He'd taken time especially to talk to Gwen, who seemed to have cooled off since their first encounter. However, he still didn't at all feel that connection to her he thought he was supposed to. Maybe Merlin had exaggerated.

The night before, Arthur mused as he stood up to head back to his chambers, had been completely horrendous. The whispers infiltrated his mind on and off, draining him of his energy and what felt like his very sanity. Merlin had been there the whole time, though, with an arm around his shoulders, trying his best to steer him toward reality once more.

Speaking of Merlin, there he was as Arthur opened his bedroom doors, setting up his lunch at the table. "Oh," he said upon Arthur's arrival, "Good afternoon, sire. I just brought this from the kitchens." He stepped aside, revealing the assortment of fruit on the table.

Arthur nodded to him and moved to sit down. He blinked stupidly at the copious amount of food in front of him, and peered up at Merlin. "Surely I can't eat all this by myself."

Merlin chuckled. "I've seen you do it before, trust me."

"Here." Arthur pushed the plate toward the other side of the table. "Have some."

Merlin looked hesitant for a moment before slowly reaching over to grab an apple. "Thank you, sire."

"It's just . . . by the looks of it, you don't eat all that much. Or sleep for that matter." He'd noted the dark circles under Merlin's eyes as soon as he'd walked in. " . . . But I suppose I'm to blame for the latter."

"Oh, er, no," Merlin said quickly, "No, I wanted to stay. You were having a rough time, and . . . if it were me, I wouldn't have wanted to be alone."

Arthur shrugged, popping a grape into his mouth. "I just hope it doesn't happen again." He paused, thinking over the previous night's events for a moment, before he sat up straight again in realization. "I was . . . beginning to ask you something. Yesterday."

Merlin had begun to busy himself tidying Arthur's room while munching on the apple. "Hm?"

"I was saying . . . before the voices came . . . " Arthur sighed, sitting back in his chair. "How do the people of Camelot see me? As a person?"

"Well," Merlin replied thoughtfully, "from what I understand, they regard you as a great hero and a good man. And rightly so. The people appreciate all you do for them."

"Oh. Well, that's good, I suppose." Arthur shrugged. "And what else?"

Merlin ducked his head, a small smile creeping over his face. "Er, well," he said quietly, "You're kind of a prat, too."

Arthur blinked. "Oh. Am I?" He supposed it made sense. He was, after all, a Prince, and he figured with that knowledge in his head for his entire life, he had to be at least a little cocky. "Do _you _think I'm a prat?" For some reason, Merlin's opinion seemed to matter above all the rest.

Merlin took a few steps toward Arthur, his expression serious but his eyes dancing. "Sire," he said slowly, "You are the biggest prat I've ever had the misfortune to know."

"Oi!" Arthur grabbed a grape from his plate and threw it toward Merlin's head, and the other boy dodged it quickly.

"Ah, now _there_'s a bit of the supercilious royal arse we all know and love!" Merlin cried, spastically avoiding the various pieces of fruit Arthur had begun to throw at him.

Arthur laughed wildly, standing up with a plethora of grapes in his hands, aiming to fire. "You have impeccable dodging skills, Merlin."

"Well, you throw things at me a lot, so-"

"-Do I? Well, I guess this isn't a change for you then-"

"Not." Duck. "In the least." Swivel. "My lord."

Arthur figured he might as well have some fun amongst all the chaos going on. He certainly couldn't remember having laughed so hard in the last few days.

So he promptly tackled Merlin to the floor, wrestling him and pinning him to the ground.

"Argh!" Merlin shouted, trying to push the much larger man off him, grinning from ear to ear, "Arthur, come on, g'off me!"

"Surrender," Arthur said flatly, smirking.

But what Arthur presumed to be Merlin's weakness seemed to be an asset, as he managed to wriggle his too-skinny frame from under Arthur and in seconds, Arthur found himself on his back on the floor, with Merlin peering down at him bemusedly. "You first," he retorted slyly.

There was a beat of silence as they both breathed hard. For the first time since this whole mess began, Arthur genuinely _looked _at Merlin, studying the details of his face. It curved sharply on either side in that funny way, and his eyes were bright in the sunlight.

In those dark blues there seemed to be so much more than what the servant presented on the surface. There was a bit of sadness there, and something else Arthur couldn't quite pinpoint. Clearly, though, there was much more to Merlin than the boy ever let on.

Arthur stared, entranced, and neither man moved for a moment. They were close enough that Arthur could feel Merlin's breath on his face, warm and tingling, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"You know, Merlin," Arthur said, his voice barely above a whisper, "You seem to know so much about me. But I hardly know anything about you."

"Sometimes it's better that way. Keeps things . . . interesting?" He gave a nervous smile, and Arthur squinted up at him a bit skeptically, his face still inches from Merlin's-

Then he watched Merlin flush a bright red as he quickly stood up, brushing off his clothes. "Well," he said, a bit of a shake in his voice, "I suppose I should get to cleaning up all this mess. Even though you started it." His tone was teasing, but Arthur could sense something else behind it.

Despite all that, he couldn't help but grin as he replied, "If I'm such a prat with the memories and details of my life intact, I certainly don't want to disappoint anyone by not acting like it." He playfully sat down in his chair and kicked up his feet on the table, mockingly sticking up his nose.

Merlin smiled genuinely again as he picked up a stray fruit slice off the ground, and Arthur felt if he couldn't achieve anything else without his memory, it was nice to know that he could at least make his servant smile.

Because Merlin wasn't just a servant, Arthur realized then. He was much, much more than that, and Arthur couldn't help but wonder if this had always been so.

* * *

><p>Merlin entered his and Gaius' chambers, hoping with all his might that the old man wouldn't notice the blush in his cheeks that had become practically permanent in the last hour or so. He slipped into the room, taking off his jacket and avoiding eye contact with Gaius as the physician began preparing yet another sleeping aid for Morgana.<p>

_Pleasedon'tlookatmepleasedon'tnoticeplease-_

But of course, nothing ever got past Gaius.

"You look as if you've just taken a good look under a maiden's skirt. What's the matter with you?"

Merlin shrugged a little too nonchalantly and replied, "Hm? Me? Oh, nothing. I'm just tired, is all. Mucked out Arthur's stables and it was quite the work-out. You know. With all the . . . mucking." He nodded solemnly for effect.

Gaius raised a curious eyebrow. "Right," he replied, although Merlin knew he wasn't entirely convinced, "I'm glad you're home. I wanted to go over the night before Arthur lost his memory, in case we missed anything. I'm afraid I've found nothing in my books that describes Arthur's condition, especially since you told me about the strange, what was it . . . whispering in his head?" He sighed. "Maybe it's best that we have a fresh start."

"Good idea," Merlin said, sitting down and taking off his boots, trying not to think about how very blue Arthur's eyes are and how very closely he'd gotten to look at them earlier.

"So, is there anything you can remember that was strange about that evening, Merlin? About the Prince's behavior, maybe?"

"Well, it's hard to tell," Merlin said thoughtfully, "considering he was a bit on the drunk side."

"Just try and think, boy. Think of anything that might be able to help."

Merlin sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. He thought back to the night of Arthur's birthday celebration a few days prior, and how despite his alcohol-induced ramblings his voice had sounded really nice and low and oh God what the hell was he _thinking_?

And suddenly, the memory came to him, sharp and bright. He furrowed his eyebrows, which prompted Gaius to say, "Merlin? What is it?"

"The mirror," Merlin said slowly, "He kept looking behind me at the mirror in his room. Like he was staring at something specific. But when I turned around, nothing was-"

"A mirror?" Gaius interrupted, his eyes widening. Merlin knew by the look on his face that couldn't be anything good. "Oh, Merlin. I'm afraid I know exactly what happened to Arthur."


	5. Chapter V

**A/N: Hello! Thanks for all the reviews. This particular question caught my eye: _I'm wondering: when Arthur recovers his memory, will he remember what happened while he didn't have it?_ XD A very, very good question that I assure you will be answered.**

**Another note: forgive my lack of knowledge about Old English. I used a translator here, so if I'm using the words wrong, I apologize, and if anyone knows how I should be using them, drop me a line! Enjoy Chapter 5.**

* * *

><p>"They are called Sunscin Creatures."<p>

Gaius had barely finished his sentence before Merlin began frantically leafing through the piles of books around the room. If this truly was the cause of Arthur's memory loss, Merlin wanted to fix the problem as fast as he could.

He listened nonetheless as Gaius went on: "They are very dangerous to reckon with, Merlin. They are magical creatures with the ability to corrupt with just a glance into their eyes-"

Growing increasingly frustrated, Merlin threw book after book aside, desperate. _Nothing here is helping. Nothing here will let me fix this._Finally, he could no longer stand the waiting, and gave Gaius an apologetic look before raising his hand out in front of him, his eyes glowing gold.

"_Abeþece sunscin ælwiht_," he breathed, and a small book hidden under piles and piles of others soared toward Merlin, landing in front of him and opening to just the page Merlin was looking for.

It was no secret to Gaius that Merlin was a sorcerer. In fact, it was part of why Merlin had come to live with Gaius in Camelot in the first place, for Gaius to guide him.

It was a secret to everyone else, though. It had to be. For Merlin's own sake, and of course, for Arthur's and the kingdom's. Should Merlin be caught, he would suffer the penalty of death, and as such Arthur would be unable to fulfill his destiny and unite Albion.

But Arthur needed to have his memories intact in order to do all that, so Merlin figured he could take the risk in this situation, despite Gaius' protests. He was used to taking risks on Arthur's behalf, anyhow. He wouldn't have it any other way.

He skimmed through the words on the page before him, his eyes widening with each passing second. Words: "vicious", "terrorizing", "powerful" seemed to glare up at Merlin menacingly in their pitch black scrawl.

After a moment, Gaius' voice broke through the chilling silence: "Do you see, Merlin? Do you understand? Sunscin creatures-"

"Are travelers," Merlin interrupted, speaking slowly and squinting at a spot on the corner of the wooden table to keep from reading the horrible words any longer, "They go from place to place to wreak their havoc. They feed on souls they deem worthy . . . " He paused, forcing himself to revisit one of the excerpts he'd just read. "'Golden' souls, they call them. They infiltrate the mind, which explains why Arthur was so terrified last night . . ." He gulped. "They take the very essence of someone, through their reflection. And they're taking Arthur's, bit by bit."

"I'm afraid so," Gaius agreed solemnly, "They've attached themselves Arthur, and with as pure a heart as his . . . " He sighed and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin felt his hard gaze on the page before them that held the ghastly image of the grey, ghost-like creature, " . . . I'm very afraid they may not let him go."

* * *

><p>Pacing had become a habit of Arthur's in the last few days.<p>

He let his feet drag on the floor as he walked to and fro, his hands clasped behind his back. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, making him ever restless. It was a feeling Arthur couldn't place. All he knew was he felt he should be doing _something_, anything. The nagging continued to claw at him to the timing of his pace, until he heard the unmistakable yells of Sir Leon outside. Curious, Arthur made his way to the window, peering out into the courtyard. The knights stood around Sir Leon, their expressions grave. Leon was speaking quieter now, but even from his spot above, Arthur could see the concern in his brow.

Something was going on, and it didn't seem at all good. Arthur turned on his heel and left his chambers, only to see Morgana heading down the corridor; she, too, looked worried.

He jogged over to her, hoping maybe she had an idea as to what was going on. "Morgana?"

She whirled around, blue-green eyes bright. "Arthur," she replied, and Arthur couldn't help but hear the tone of almost-pity in her voice.

"Do you know what's going on?"

"Some troops have crossed treaty lines." Morgana began to wring her hands as she spoke. "And that's . . . an act of war."

"War?" Arthur repeated dumbly, "And . . . my father?"

"Has ordered his men to go out and meet them." She avoided his gaze and spoke the next words almost under her breath, "By the looks of it, they don't seem ready."

The creep-crawling up Arthur's spine seemed to intensify then, and he clenched his fists. "Isn't there . . . I mean, shouldn't I help?"

"Uther wants you to. We all do," replied Morgana. Arthur could tell she was speaking carefully. Most people did around him, he found. "But he doesn't want you hurt. I mean . . . do you remember? How to wield a sword?"

Arthur paused, then answered honestly: "I never really thought about it."

"If you ask me . . . " Morgana touched Arthur's arm lightly. "I think it's all about confidence. Knowing yourself. You don't remember who you are, Arthur. But I do." She gave him a significant look, squeezed his arm, and turned to walk away. Arthur watched her go.

* * *

><p>Merlin was exhausted. He'd spent hours with Gaius trying to find a spell to help him defeat the Sunscin creatures-none of the books he'd found provided anything concerning a means of stopping them. Merlin himself was growing very impatient. It didn't help, either, that mostly everyone in the kingdom was on edge with the knowledge of an enemy attack on the way. Something about disputed treaty lines; Merlin wasn't sure.<p>

He pushed open the doors to Arthur's chambers and found him fiddling with a piece of his armor, a look of utter perplexity on his face. Merlin almost laughed at the sight of it. Arthur's tongue poked out of his mouth a bit in concentration as he stared down at the metal intensely. His blue eyes grazed over all the glistening silver parts laid out before him, and there was a spark in his look that resembled the determination Merlin hadn't seen in his eyes in a while.

"Merlin," he said, looking up, and the fiery blues met Merlin's own. "Help me put these on." He gestured to the armor. "You're my servant and all, right? You know how to do this."

Merlin blinked. "Er . . . why?"

"Because I can't sit here and stare at the wall anymore, that's why," Arthur finished, and he sounded quite a bit like the prat Merlin knew all too well. "I'm going to help them out there. I'm going to fight."

"You're going to _what_?" Merlin cried, flabbergasted, the realization of Arthur's intentions hitting him full-on. If there was anything Merlin didn't want, it was Arthur getting hurt - more than he already was by the creatures in his mirror, unbeknownst to Arthur himself. "You can't do that. You haven't been trained!"

"Yes, I have," Arthur countered, and on Merlin's even more confused expression, added, "Well, the _other_me has. The original me. And I figure, something has to stick, doesn't it?"

"But you don't know that," replied Merlin, placing his hands firmly on the table behind which Arthur stood, "You could get hurt. And Uther wouldn't allow you to do this, Arthur."

"Well." Arthur paused, running a hand along his suit of chainmail. "He doesn't have to know. Does he? I can't stand idly by while there are men fighting for the kingdom I'm supposed to inherit, without my guidance. I don't know what guidance I can possibly give them now, but . . . " He picked up his helmet. "I want to at least try, Merlin. Don't you see? I have to do something."

Merlin looked him in the eyes once again and his heart fluttered at the sight of all the focus and drive in his gaze.

"Merlin," Arthur said, his voice low, "Just . . . help me to be able to do this. I need your help. Please."

Merlin sighed, trying not to let his hands shake with nervousness as he helped the chain mail over Arthur's head. There was silence in the air as Merlin tried his best to keep his composure, willing as best he could the images of what terrible things could happen to Arthur in battle out of his head.

"Merlin?" His name was a question in Arthur's voice.

"Yes, sire?"

"Me. The, er, the old me. The one I'm supposed to be . . . " Arthur avoided Merlin's concerned glances as he fastened his red cape over the Prince's shoulders. "Was he ever afraid?"

Merlin tilted his head a little, finding Arthur's eyes and holding them. "Everyone gets afraid, Arthur."

He handed Arthur his sword, and Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, his touch lingering there for a moment. "Thank you," he said.

Merlin nodded feebly. Why was he letting Arthur do this? If he got severely injured - or worse, died - it would be all Merlin's fault.

But Arthur's final glance at Merlin seemed to emanate all the confidence in the world. Merlin watched him stride away, hoping he hadn't let on just how truly afraid he was himself.

* * *

><p>Sir Leon was, simply put, completely and utterly shocked as he walked through the woods, his men trailing along behind him.<p>

Usually, he was good at masking his opinions with a "yes, sire" or an "I agree, my Lord". It was all part of being a knight of Camelot. But when Prince Arthur had approached him a few minutes ago to offer his assistance in fighting the invading troops, Sir Leon hadn't been able to help himself:

"I . . . I beg your pardon, sire?"

Arthur had answered with another question: "Isn't there strength in numbers? I want to fight."

And Sir Leon certainly couldn't say _no_to the Prince of Camelot. That just wouldn't have done at all. He had fought by Arthur's side for quite some time, taking his orders, and even though the roles were essentially reversed now, he wasn't about to stir things up by telling the King. There was a battle to be fought, and Arthur had been right, after all - there was strength in numbers. Sir Leon could only hope Arthur at least marginally knew what he was doing. The Arthur he knew well was a skilled swordsman. But was this still the case?

He froze in his tracks, hearing rustling coming from up ahead. He extended a hand behind him to signal the others to keep quiet. The trees danced a bit in the wind, interrupting the stillness.

Suddenly, a yell sounded through the forest, and men in bright green cloaks began to charge toward him and his men.

Leon had mere milliseconds to take a deep breath, draw his sword, and shout, "It's started! Attack!"

* * *

><p>All Arthur could see were clashes of green and red. His eyes darted back and forth, his shield held out in front of him on a shaking arm and not doing much to hide his sheer panic. Before he had any time to think, a soldier in green was running at him, his cry echoing in Arthur's ears. <em>Oh, hell<em>, he thought. _I don't know how to do this. I don't know what to do_.

But suddenly, as the knight's sword flashed silver in his face, he did. He shielded himself against the blade before weaning it off him and twirling his own sword in his hand, knees bent and posture ready. It was like he'd known how to do this all his life. For all he knew, he thought briefly, he had. He fought the man off until he staggered backward, and Arthur took this as his opportunity to strike. He drove his sword into the man's leg, sending him falling to the ground. Practically euphoric, Arthur jumped a little, proud of himself, before whirling around to face another knight aiming to attack behind him.

It continued like this for quite some time. Arthur lost himself in the sound of scraping swords and battle cries and Leon's instructions. That was until he realized he was almost completely alone in this section of the forest. Red in a sea of green.

A bunch of men - Arthur stopped counting at four - started to move in his direction. Where had Leon and the others gone? Were they injured? Still fighting others further away?

Arthur felt his stomach lurch as he realized he couldn't fight off all these men at once. One of the knights swung at him, and Arthur dodged out of the way, only to have to dodge the blade of another. Dizzy, Arthur whirled back and forth, trying to fight them all off even though it was hopeless. The sky had darkened long ago, and his path was lit only by the stars as he tried to find his footing.

Just then, one of the knights, the tallest of them, charged full-on at Arthur and another behind him knocked a blow to his arm. Arthur yelped in pain and watched in horror as his own sword clattered to the ground. He was defenseless.

The world seemed to keep spinning, and out of nowhere were those voices once more: _Come to us, Arthur. Come to us._

Arthur let out a strangled yell, and just as his opponent's blade touched his chain-mail, in a voice all too familiar to him he heard an alien, unfamiliar word: "_Ascilde_!"

There was a flash of light, and all the knights surrounding Arthur were thrown to the ground in an instant by a seemingly invisible force. Arthur gaped at them, wide-eyed, then slowly turned around to face the silhouette of whom he knew was his servant Merlin before him, his hand outstretched and shaking and his eyes aglow in the midnight darkness.


	6. Chapter VI

"Arthur, you should not have gone out to fight!"

Arthur fixated his gaze toward a spot on the palace floor as Gwen bandaged his arm. His tunic was soaked in blood. Uther continued to berate him, saying, "You were not fight with the knights. You were a liability in protecting the kingdom, and worst of all, you could have been killed."

Arthur looked up, watching Gaius tend to Sir Leon and the others. It had turned out the opposing band of knights had been attempting to cross the border in secret, and those who were still alive were being imprisoned until further negotiations were made.

Arthur wasn't sure how any of it worked. There had of course, been a time when he had, but he supposed all that knowledge was long gone now.

What he did know was there had only been one casualty on their side, but a casualty nonetheless: one of the young knights, according to Leon. Sir Evyn. He had been newly betrothed. Arthur tried not to think about it.

That was easy enough, though, because there was one particular thought his mind kept wandering back to: that he probably would be dead himself, it it hadn't been for his manservant. Merlin had saved his life. With magic.

His first thoughts after watching the sparks of yellow-gold flow through Merlin's outstretched hand was to tell his father. But the cold look in Uther's eyes, his rigid expression and the sharp sounds of his voice kept Arthur quiet. In the last few days, Arthur had learned only one thing about his father: that he believed magic to be inherently evil.

"I'm afraid these wounds may take quite a bit of time to heal, my Lord," Gaius commented from a little ways off, breaking Arthur's concentration.

Uther sighed agitatedly. "Where is that foolish serving boy, Merlin? Shouldn't he be assisting you as well, Gaius?"

"I haven't seen him, Sire."

Arthur tried to hide a flinch.

"There you are, Arthur." Gwen stepped back, looking him over. "Are you feeling all right?"

Frankly, Arthur wasn't for a number of reasons. But he forced a smile, touched Gwen's arm in appreciation and gingerly stood up to head off to his chambers.

"Arthur?" Uther snapped, "Arthur, I am not finished speaking to you yet-"

Arthur turned, walked over and bent his head before his father as he'd seen so many others do. "Father. I realize now that our relationship is strained with something I cannot name. It pulls us farther and farther apart." For the first time, he saw Uther look genuinely surprised. "You are cold, Father. I wish that weren't so."

He whirled round on his heel again, catching briefly through the corner of his eye the shocked expressions of servants and knights alike. He was almost out of hearing distance of the group when he heard his father say,

"If it is indeed sorcery that has taken his memory . . . " He sounded-hurt? It was the most emotion Arthur had heard in his father's voice, "We must battle it as fervently as ever. It took his mother away from me. I'll not have it take him, too."

Arthur stopped in mid-stride, his heart pounding, suddenly feeling very sick.

_Sorcery killed my mother. Magic caused her to die._

This, Arthur realized, was what made his father so bitter. Loss. Sheer loss, and Arthur felt it then, gripping at his heart and twisting at it.

Arthur went to find Merlin.

* * *

><p>Ferociously scrubbing at one of Arthur's many boots with a worn brush, Merlin tried to control the tremor in his hands.<p>

Arthur wasn't supposed to have found out this way.

He thought of running. Telling Gaius a solemn goodbye and fleeing Camelot, to watch and protect the Prince from afar. But Merlin wouldn't-couldn't do that. If anything, his biggest obstacle was himself.

He heard the doors click open and froze, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Sure enough:

"Merlin." Arthur's low voice rang through the silence of the room.

Merlin looked down at the leather boot in his hands, scrutinizing the dullness of the toe and the small hole toward the heel. "Sire," he said-or tried to say. It turned into a cracked whisper by the time it left his lips.

"Sir Evyn is dead," Arthur went on, "And really, I should be, as well."

Merlin said nothing, continuing to buffer the shoe as if it were the only thing he knew how to do.

"For God's sake, Merlin, forget the boot and listen to me."

_Once a prat, always a prat_, Merlin couldn't help but think. He placed the boot down and stood up, staring down at his roughened hands.

"You're a sorcerer. You said a spell to save my life tonight."

Merlin squirmed a bit at Arthur's abruptness and nodded meekly, "I had to. You were outnumbered."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, beginning to pace. Merlin let his gaze follow the shadow of Arthur's moving frame on the wooden floor. "And untrained. And you knew that. So you came to assist me." He chuckled a bit. "If that's not dedication to one's job, I don't know what is.

"My father says magic is the most threatening presence in this kingdom. That it corrupts. That all who practice it are servants of evil. And . . . " He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Magic is what killed my mother. Am I right?"

Merlin gaped at Arthur for a moment, eyes wide, before his expression softened into one of utter sadness. He couldn't bring himself to speak.

"How?" Arthur's voice was broken, and Merlin felt like crumbling at the sound of it.

"Arthur, it's not my place to-"

"_How_," Arthur's voice is cold, determined, "did it happen? I want to know."

Merlin knew he could no longer hide the truth from Arthur. He had no choice.

So he leaned against the table, eyes cast to the floor, as he provided an explanation he'd been hiding from Arthur for a very long time:

"Your father . . . badly wanted a son. So he enlisted the help of a sorceress, Nimueh, to help your mother conceive one. But . . . you see, the world-nature-can only thrive if it is in balance. For a life to be created, one must be taken to restore-"

"My mother died for me." It was more of a statement than a question.

And Merlin replied softly, "Yes."

He could see in Arthur's expression, brow furrowed and jaw rigid, that he was conflicted. Confused. In these past few days, Merlin realized, Arthur had learned more about the world around him, about his own life, than he'd ever been allowed to know before. And for someone who had no recollection of his life before this, for someone who was essentially starting anew, Merlin could only think how utterly overwhelming it all must be.

"So," Arthur finally spoke up again, breaking the wall of silence between them, "Magic is what's made my father so bitter. Magic gave me life and killed my mother. And magic is probably what's doing this to me."

This was going to be the part, Merlin thought, where Arthur explained he told his father about Merlin's secret. This would be when Sir Leon or a trusted knight of the King came in to arrest him. Prepare him for his execution.

Merlin wrung his hands, waiting for the terrible blow to his heart, the crushing words he knew were coming. Then:

"Show me."

Merlin blinked stupidly, finally looking up at Arthur and seeing the fires of curiosity in his eyes. ". . . What?"

"Show me again. I want to see . . . I want to see that I wasn't imagining things."

Shaking his head violently, Merlin clasped his hands behind his back, hoping fervently that if they were out of sight Arthur would forget the whole thing entirely. "I can't do that, sire."

"I'm . . . ordering you to." The words were in Arthur's voice but were not accompanied by the fierceness Merlin was accustomed to. But somehow that made them all the more powerful.

So Merlin took a deep breath, held out a shaking hand, and spoke an incantation in an almost-whisper. Gradually, one of the candles in the corner of the room began to levitate, making its way toward Merlin. When he moved his hand, the candle moved with it in a circular motion around Arthur, who stood watching, dazed.

Merlin placed the candle back in its spot near the bedside table, and averted Arthur's eyes once more.

Silence.

He stared down at his hands once again, and waited for Arthur to speak.


	7. Chapter VII

**A/N: Three more chapters to go. Thanks, everyone, for sticking around! Enjoy! As usual, DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Merlin_!**

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><p>"I don't know," Arthur said quietly after a beat of silence, "what I would do about this were my memory in-tact. Do you?"<p>

"No, Sire," Merlin replied honestly. Sometimes it had felt as if he and Arthur were close enough that Arthur would be willing to accept Merlin for who he was, should Merlin have had to tell him. Other times, Arthur was so out of reach that Merlin felt he'd have to keep his secret forever. Point was, destiny had woven their lives together permanently, and Merlin had always known eventually it all would have come to this.

"I've realized something in the last few days," Arthur said suddenly, moving to sit in a nearby chair, "That sometimes what I should be doing, what I'm expected to do, isn't always necessarily the right thing. Or . . . I suppose the thing that _feels _right."

He paused, sighing a little and running a hand through his hair in frustration. "And to me, it doesn't seem right that you should be punished . . . killed, for saving my life. It doesn't make sense that the magic that hurt so many people in my life and I'm sure the lives of many others, is the magic that kept me alive tonight. And it makes me think that's just it: it's not the same, is it? Magic can't be all bad, if it can be used to help people. Right?"

Merlin could hardly believe what he was hearing. He took a deep, shaky breath.

"What I don't understand, though, is why you did it. Why you helped me, if you knew the risk."

And suddenly, the words began to tumble out of Merlin like an avalanche as his head snapped up to face Arthur for the first time in a while:

"It's my job to protect you, Arthur," he said slowly, determinedly, "Our futures are linked and they always have been. You are meant to be the greatest king Camelot has ever known. But it's . . . so much more than that. You may not remember it, but . . . You're a prat and you're arrogant but you've saved me and so many others, time and time again. You represent honor. Justice. A new beginning. And you're a good man. You don't always show it, but I've seen it. I believe in what you can be. And there isn't anywhere else I'd rather be than here, protecting you. And magic helps me to do that."

The red-hot conflict in Arthur's eyes had been replaced with a cool softness, Merlin realized as he finally finished speaking. The Prince stood up, moving so that his face was inches from Merlin's. Merlin felt his heart racing, felt his body turn almost-limp, and then:

"You," Arthur whispered, "You must go. It's late. I need . . . I need to think."

Merlin touched Arthur's arm, blindly reaching out for the connection between them that wasn't there. "Arthur, I-"

"Leave, Merlin." There was no harshness in his tone, but the words had the same impact they would have if there had been-because instead, they were full of horrible emptiness.

Merlin walked out of the room, roughly smudging a stray tear out of his vision as he went.

* * *

><p>Guinevere had just turned the corner to head to Morgana's chambers when she saw none other than Arthur standing outside his own room, leaned up against the wall with his eyes closed.<p>

She raised an eyebrow and debated going over to talk to him, staring down at the floor and idly wringing her hands. Arthur was different now. And who knew if he'd ever be himself again?

Despite all that, Gwen recognized the bits and pieces of Arthur Pendragon she'd always known, weaved into this new man like a quilt. And it was what prompted her to take a few hesitant steps toward him with a quiet, "My lord?"

Arthur opened his eyes and appeared to be relieved at the sight of her. "Guinevere."

"You should be resting. You've lost quite a bit of blood."

Arthur's expression suggested he was distracted by something as Gwen spoke. Then again, he always seemed distracted lately, Gwen had noticed.

Nonetheless, she spoke up again: "Everyone was quite surprised at what you said to the King this evening. After you left, he began yelling at Gaius to try harder in finding a cure for your . . . your illness."

Arthur looked up at her again. "He is angry, I presume?"

"Very. But . . . I think what you said was quite right, Arthur."

He smiled a bit. "At least someone does."

"Are you alright?" Gwen found herself blurting, "I mean . . . you've been through so much. And the only person who seems to get through to you is Merlin."

There was moment of awkward quiet between them until Arthur spoke again: "Guinevere, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"If you found out something about someone, that made you feel as if that person isn't who you thought they were, what would you do about it?"

Gwen made a pout of confused curiosity, but Arthur's pressed lips told her he probably didn't want to go into much more detail. She didn't bother pushing the issue. Instead, she offered him the best advice she could.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "It depends. If it were me, and if it were a person I cared about, I'd be willing to put aside my prejudices to see if that person's intentions, that person's good qualities, are enough to cancel out whatever wrong they've done to me by lying."

She watched a range of emotions flash across Arthur's face as she finished speaking, before he nodded slowly and replied, "Thank you."

He disappeared into his room before she could say another word.

Guinevere certainly wasn't stupid. There was something else eating at Arthur behind the physical and mental battle wounds he suffered. Something much more. But she knew he wouldn't tell her. And she knew, somehow, it wasn't her place to know. This was something Arthur had to figure out on his own.

Yes, Arthur _was_ different-changing into someone new, and for all Gwen knew that could be for the best.

But hanging onto glimpses of memories, of stolen looks in corridors or the gentle touch of Arthur's hand on hers, was futile.

Maybe it was time to let go. Gwen could mend Arthur's battle woulds, but she couldn't fix everything.

But there was one boy, her good friend, who she knew was going to try to no matter what. So she put her faith in him instead.

Guinevere sighed, turned on her heel and headed to Morgana's room, muttering to herself, "Merlin, whatever the hell it is that's going on with him, you'd better fix it."

* * *

><p>Arthur sat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. The silence in the room was almost painful, and Arthur found himself listening hard for the slight breeze outside, just so he could focus on something other than his own (very confused) thoughts.<p>

Merlin had lied to him, and it seemed he'd been lying for quite some time, now. What upset Arthur the most was that in all this chaos, in all this not-knowing, Merlin had been the one thing Arthur felt he did know. But he'd been wrong about that all along.

Falling back onto the bed with a sigh, Arthur closed his eyes. Maybe a good night's rest would help him forget the way Sir Evyn's limp body had looked on the forest ground.

The thoughts of his faceless mother, the woman he never knew and the reason his father was so full of hatred.

The forlorn expression on Merlin's face when Arthur had asked him to leave.

The silence began to shape into a comfortable lullaby when suddenly, it happened again.

_Come to us, Arthur. You're almost ours now. You'll be ours always. Such a golden soul._

The voices charged through his brain, leaving his shaking body in their wake. "No," he whispered, sitting up and clutching his head, "No, no . . ."

A jolt of pain ripped through his chest then, and Arthur stifled a yell, beads of sweat casting themselves onto his forehead before dripping down the sides of his face. Suddenly, Gwen's earlier words began to ring loudly in his ears, and he realized that the one person he needed most right then might still just be the one person he could trust. Somehow.

"Merlin!" he yelled, his breath shortening and clipped with pain, "Merlin!"

His servant stumbled into the room within mere seconds, face flushed red and eyes wide with worry. Arthur briefly wondered whether or not he'd been pacing the halls outside, for him to have gotten here so quickly. Typical Merlin. "Arthur? Arthur, what is it?"

"Don't let my father see . . . he'll just . . . " Arthur winced, clutching at his sides, abandoning the thought to replace it with another, "The voices, Merlin. There's . . . there's pain. In my chest."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will it all away when he felt cool, familiar hands brushing against his forehead and then bracing themselves around his shoulders. "It's all right, Arthur . . ."

His eyes snapped open and he looked at Merlin warily. "I don't know if I can . . . trust you," he muttered.

And Merlin tilted his head to the side just slightly as the shadows danced across his face. "Please . . . learn to trust me, Arthur. There's a part of you that knows you can."

Arthur clutched to the fabric of Merlin's shirt, the touch sending a wash of familiarity and relief over him. The pain continued to throb in his chest, and he found himself mumbling, "Promise you won't g-go. P-promise."

"I promise, Arthur. I'll always be here."

The last thing Arthur heard was Merlin's repeated whisper of "always" before he drifted into darkness.


	8. Chapter VIII

A/N: Long chapter ahead, bear with me! Two more chapters left after this one. Thanks as always for reading! DISCLAIMER: As usual I don't own _Merlin_.

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><p>Merlin opened his eyes to the blinding light of the morning, and the sensation of something heavy pressing against the right side of his body. He sighed, his half-awake consciousness about to tell him to shove away whatever it was on top of him, when after a few seconds he realized the large mass next to him was breathing. Rather loudly.<p>

It took another few to process the fact that the aforementioned lump of sheets and snoring was actually Prince Arthur Pendragon. Merlin sat up abruptly with a quiet, "Ah!", blinking confusedly at the sleeping man whose arm was now draped loosely across Merlin's waist.

Memories of the night before made their way to the front of Merlin's mind. Arthur had been all but screaming in agony. The pain and the voices had become too much. Merlin had offered to go get Gaius for help, but Arthur had refused.

So Merlin had stayed with the Prince until he'd fallen asleep. And apparently had followed suit. And gotten _into _bed with him.

Oh.

Merlin scratched his head awkwardly, wondering whether or not to find a means of escape without waking Arthur. But the way the sunlight cast its glow against Arthur's mussed golden hair, the way a few of the Prince's fingers were positioned on Merlin's waist just so that they brushed against a bit of skin under his shirt, and the way his breathing seemed to be in time with Merlin's own hammering heartbeat all rendered Merlin completely still for a few moments.

In his own way, Arthur was a bit beautiful. Merlin realized then, in the warmth of the early morning, that he'd always known this.

Arthur Pendragon was a beautiful sort of man, not because of anything he'd necessarily done, or because of what he was destined to do. He was beautiful in all the in-betweens. In the little moments, like this one, gone unnoticed by everyone except his serving boy.

Arthur was beautiful and he didn't know it, because everything he'd known had been taken away from him. Merlin knew it was time to make right of that.

He gingerly moved out from under Arthur's arm, making his way out of the bed and starting to head to the door. Before he went, he cast one long look at Arthur, reaching over and lightly running his fingers through the Prince's hair.

Arthur stirred a bit and Merlin hissed, pulling his hand away quickly, not wanting to have woken him up. "Sorry," he whispered, blushing, realizing he'd reached the point of no return as Arthur's eyes fluttered open.

"Merlin," he said, his voice thick with sleep.

"How are you?" Merlin asked, the blush in his cheeks getting hotter as Arthur's stare lingered.

"I'm . . . I'm fine," replied Arthur, sitting up gingerly, "Although I probably wouldn't have been if . . . " He trailed off, and quiet filled the room again.

"Right, well . . . " Merlin stepped back. "I should let you get some rest."

He started to walk away when he heard his name again: "Merlin?"

"Yes?"

". . . Thank you."

Merlin tried to contain the smile making its away across his face in reply, to no avail. He locked eyes with Arthur for a moment, noticing the hint of a smile on the other man's lips as well. And then he left.

* * *

><p>Arthur had a problem.<p>

He wasn't sure what it was like to be in love. Had his former self ever been in love? Of course he didn't know. Had he been in love before he'd disappeared to wherever it is he'd gone, leaving this new person, this new man to rise up in his shoes and start again?

If this was love, nothing had prepared Arthur for this.

Nothing had prepared him for the confusion that wrapped itself around him and squeezed, hard. No one had explained to him how very difficult it was to be away from the one person you trust with everything you are, and how much _mor e_difficult things were when that person was around.

The fact was, Arthur Pendragon _needed _Merlin more than he felt he could ever need anything in his life. And this was terrifying.

Merlin had lied to Arthur; this was true. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that of course Merlin had done it as an act of selflessness. To protect Arthur himself. That foolish, selfless boy. Arthur almost resented him for it.

It was all the little things, Arthur mused, that drove him to practically the brink of insanity. Like the way Merlin would squeeze his shoulder in reassurance, or the way his eyes lit up bright-big-blue when Arthur said something funny, or how soft the servant's voice could become in the dead of night when the horrible whispers wouldn't stop. Arthur needed all this. Every part of it.

If this was love, Arthur wasn't sure he was ready for it.

* * *

><p>Merlin squinted into the dark cave, growing more impatient with each passing second. Kilgharrah the dragon was perched on a rock before him, sound asleep.<p>

"I need your help," Merlin said for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last few minutes. Exasperated, he cupped his hands around his mouth and cried, "Oi!"

The Dragon startled awake, growling agitatedly before sitting up, its teeth bared in the usual snarl-smile. "Merlin. I am surprised to see you in such early hours of the day."

"Yes, well. I'm surprised I managed to get past the guards in broad daylight. But I did. This is important."

"Let me guess," was the Dragon's reply, "The young Pendragon has not regained his memory."

"No," said Merlin, "But Gaius and I discovered that Sunscin creatures are responsible. Do you know of them?"

"Of course I do. Troublesome, they are. Not easy to defeat."

Merlin bit his lip. "They're hurting Arthur. Really hurting him. And . . . the books say they're . . . they're going to take Arthur's soul. I have to stop them before they do that. But I can't find anything, any spell that will help me destroy them. Gaius says removing the mirror won't help; they've already got a hold on Arthur."

"Ah, but destruction is the final step. There is something in between."

Merlin blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Sunscin creatures store the memories of their victims in their very beings. They hide behind the reflections from which they strike. In order for you to destroy the creatures, Merlin, they must become corporeal."

"So . . . you're saying I have to get a spell to bring them out of Arthur's mirror?"

"Precisely. Only then will Arthur's memories return to him with the Sunscins' destruction. He shall forget the events of the past few days, as old, permanent memories replace the new."

Panic stirred in Merlin as the Dragon spoke, and he gulped. "You . . . you mean, he's not going to remember anything he did, or said? Or knew?" He trailed off, fixing his eyes toward the ground.

A beat of silence rang through the cave before the Dragon said knowingly, "There are memories you wish for him to keep, aren't there?"

Merlin didn't reply. "Speak, boy," the Dragon commanded.

Merlin shuffled his feet, wondering if the Dragon knew what had gone on in the last few days without Merlin even having to tell him. The old creature was impossibly wise in that way. "Well . . . he's been able to make a lot of decisions on his own. Based on what he's seen with new eyes. And . . . I see it in him. What Camelot will become. I see it now more than ever. This is . . . the closest I've ever gotten to know him, and I don't know if that's horrible of me to say, because is that really Arthur at all?" Merlin's voice squeaked a bit at his last few words as they fell from his lips, as the endless realizations and possibilities associated with them came flooding in.

But the Dragon seemed oddly calm. "Young warlock," he replied, "That is for you to discover."

"But you said he won't remember any of this, once I destroy the creatures," Merlin went on, "He won't remember what he knows to be true about himself, about this kingdom. About . . . about me."

The Dragon chuckled. "Ah, but it may just be your strength and his willpower that change everything, Merlin."

Merlin didn't even bother calling after the creature as it flew out of sight.

* * *

><p>Morgana watched in shock as Sir Leon grabbed Arthur firmly by the arm, leading him down the corridor and toward the dungeons. King Uther settled down in his chair, rubbing his forehead wearily.<p>

Seething, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and spat, "He spoke his mind. I hardly think that deserves punishment." She glared at him, eyes flaring with a determined sparkle.

"And that's precisely the problem, Morgana," was Uther's reply, equally dripping with a challenge, "Arthur is not _in_ his right mind. And until he is, he must become aware of the order of things here in Camelot. He must heed to it."

"Oh, what? You're going to take this opportunity to train him all over again? Like he's some sort of animal-"

"That is _enough_, Morgana!" Uther towered over her, his teeth clamped into a scowl.

Morgana whirled around on her heel and stormed down the corridor, pushing open the throne room doors only to walk right into Merlin, who stepped back and bowed his head.

"S-sorry, my lady. I was just looking for Arthur."

Morgana let out a bitter laugh. "I'd check the dungeons if I were you. He should be there by now." She ran off, leaving a perplexed Merlin in her wake.

* * *

><p>The first thing Arthur heard his servant say as the boy's lanky shadow cast itself onto the dungeon floor was, "What did you do?"<p>

Arthur was relieved to see Merlin (more than relieved, in fact), but crossed his arms in front of his chest, nonetheless. "Why did you assume I did something?"

"You know, you're starting to sound more and more like yourself every day." Merlin looked like he was going to speak again, but Arthur noticed his eyes shift awkwardly to the guard standing in front of his cell nearby.

Arthur stood up and walked toward them both, clearing his throat and making his best attempt at a menacing stare at the guard through the metal bars. But his words didn't reflect the harshness of his features: "Er, could you leave us for a bit?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the floor awkwardly.

Merlin snorted, and Arthur made to poke him through the bars.

"Ah, my lord, I've been instructed by the King to keep watch," said the guard. Arthur sighed. The man looked to be about 40 and clearly indulged in a bit too much pudding in his off time. Arthur wasn't about to lose this battle.

"My servant won't be any trouble, and neither will I," he went on, imitating the very-very-serious tone his father used when he meant business and hoping it was doing its job, "If you'll just give us a few minutes of privacy."

The guard bit his lip, unsure, until Arthur, with a roll of his eyes, fished some coins out of his back pocket and handed them over to the guard. He nodded and shuffled away.

"Yeah," Merlin said, still smirking as he sat down on the floor across from Arthur, who sat down as well. "You're definitely learning." His tone sobered before he spoke again, "So what exactly happened?"

Arthur shook his head, leaning his forehead up against one of the chilly metal bars. "It was awful. A few of the men went out to apprehend someone for the use of sorcery. So I followed them."

Merlin's eyes widened; Arthur studied the torch fire dancing rhythmically in them. He went on: "But it . . . it was a girl, Merlin. A young girl. Maybe . . . ten years of age? Eleven? What has she done to anyone, Merlin? Ever since last night, I've been thinking a lot about the way justice is carried out in this kingdom. It just . . . it wasn't right. We were tearing her away from her mother and they were both _screaming_." He paused, sighing a bit. "So, I decided to take charge. Felt like a good idea at the time. I said we weren't going to arrest her. My father found out, and now here I am."

Arthur found the courage to look at Merlin again to find he was smiling softly.

"You stood up to him," he said.

Arthur nodded. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I . . . I did. Is that good or bad?" He started running a hand through his hair when he felt Merlin's catch his as the boy reached a thin arm a little through the bars, giving Arthur's fingers a tight squeeze.

"It's amazing," he said quietly before quickly pulling his hand away. There was silence for a bit as the two sat cross-legged in the dim light of the dungeon, the inches separating them measured by the thickness of the prison bars.

"So," Arthur said finally, trying to tilt his head just so that Merlin just might not notice the blush in his cheeks, "You had something to say?"

"Oh . . . yes." Merlin's expression turned to one of a strange sadness that he quickly hid with a smile (it looked to Arthur a lot more like a grimace). "I found a way to get your memory back."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes. Well, I got some . . . help."

"Help?" Arthur pressed, and Merlin chuckled nervously.

"Uh, do you happen to remember Uther mentioning that dragon chained up under the castle?"


	9. Chapter IX

**A/N: Second-to-last chapter. Enjoy!**

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><p>Gaius stood in the corner of his tiny working space as Merlin stumbled about the bookshelves and nooks-and-crannies, gathering the materials he needed.<p>

"I just need to find that spell to bring them out of the silver-"

"Merlin," Gaius said calmly.

"-And hopefully after I say it, I can use that spell I learned earlier, the one to destroy them. If I do it right, that is..."

"Merlin," said Gaius once more.

"...I told Arthur about most of it but he seems a bit skeptical; I mean, why _wouldn't _he be, I suppose..."

Gaius' voice rose this time: "Merlin!" and the boy froze. He sighed, walked over and handed a small piece of parchment to the boy. "This is the spell. I found it for you."

Sighing in relief, Merlin took the paper and folded it up, placing it in the pocket of his jacket. "Thank you, Gaius."

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, Merlin, but you're about to do something quite dangerous," Gaius said carefully, watching Merlin sling a bag over his shoulders, "And a part of you isn't quite keen to do it in the first place. Am I right?"

Merlin shook his head fervently, lifting a hand to scratch at his hair. "This is hurting Arthur. It's my job to keep him safe."

"Is that all?" Gaius raised an eyebrow, knowing he'd caught Merlin in a lie.

The boy sighed, sinking into a chair. "Do you know he defended a little girl who was using magic?"

"So I heard," replied Gaius. "The King isn't pleased. It's lucky Arthur was even released from the dungeons at all tonight."

"It's just . . . I know deep down Arthur is still there somewhere. He has to be, or else this whole thing I'm about to do would be pointless." Merlin stared at the floor. "But there's this new part of him that's, well . . . nice. Really nice."

Gaius noted the redness creep across Merlin's face that seemed to appear a lot these days when Merlin mentioned Arthur. It certainly hadn't gone unnoticed by Gaius' discerning eye. But he cared for Merlin too much to let him know he was aware of it. There was too much else to worry about, and besides, Gaius felt this was something Merlin needed to figure out on his own.

"You never know, Merlin," was all Gaius said as he pat the boy on the shoulder encouragingly, "Maybe this 'new' Arthur you speak of isn't that far off from the man you know well."

And after pulling him into a tight embrace, Gaius watched the boy leave, hoping Merlin would be all right when it was all finished, in both body and in spirit.

* * *

><p>"So, you're going to say this, erm, incantation, and those things that took my memory...what are they called?" Arthur rubbed his forehead wearily and looked up from his seat on the bed.<p>

"Sunscin creatures," Merlin supplied absently, leafing through what was apparently a book of spells.

"Right. They'll show up, and then you say another spell to destroy them? Seems simple enough."

Merlin looked up at Arthur, and suddenly Arthur saw something that looked quite a bit like regret in the glance. "There's sort of . . . a few things I haven't mentioned."

"Of course," Arthur sighed, flopping down onto the bed and crossing his arms behind his head.

"When I bring them out . . . they're going to try to, um, to hurt you. That whispering you experienced? It's going to be worse. Much worse." Merlin shuffled over and sat down next to Arthur, peering down at him. "Do you think . . . do you think you can handle it?"

"I'll be fine," Arthur said, with a lot more confidence than he actually felt, "I always seem to be when you're around, anyway."

Merlin didn't respond. Arthur sat up again to find the disposition of the boy beside him was one of complete devastation. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes were cast to his lap.

Arthur took a deep breath and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "All right?"

Merlin looked up. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. It's just . . . there's one more thing."

"Just say it, Merlin."

But Merlin's next words made sure that it clearly wasn't: "You're not going to remember any of this. You'll just go back to how you were before, like these past few days didn't happen."

Arthur blinked, letting this new information sink in. "Well," he said finally, "What if I don't want it to?"

"You don't really have a choice, I think," Merlin replied, "But . . . it's all right. All the memories you've been trying to recover will come back to you. It'll be like . . . like you never left."

"Right. I suppose that's good," Arthur said, bitterness at the edge of his voice, "Since . . . I'm not really Arthur, anyway. I never was."

He felt that familiar cool touch of Merlin's arm around his shoulders and the reassuring voice of the boy: "But I think you are."

Arthur looked down at his hands, and laughed a bit. "We've . . . been through a lot, you and I, haven't we? You . . . really are extraordinary, Merlin. Thank you. For everything." He said the last part quickly, afraid that if he didn't say it all in one breath he wouldn't have had the courage to say it at all.

He saw Merlin's pale hand reach out and grasp his own as the boy replied, "Yes, well. You're quite extraordinary yourself, your prattiness."

Arthur let out another small chuckle and let himself squeeze Merlin's hand just a bit.

He saw Merlin smile out of the corner of his eye. "I'm going to miss . . . " he trailed off, squeezing Arthur's hand just as tight.

But Arthur had no time to react, as Merlin was on his feet within seconds and heading back to the spell book. "Are you ready?"

"As ever," was Arthur's retort.

And so it began.

Just like he'd remembered from before, Merlin's eyes glowed a blinding yellow as he said a spell. Suddenly, though, his words blended with the screeches of those inside his head.

_You must be one with us. You must be ours, Arthur! ._

Arthur dropped to his knees immediately, clutching at the sides of his head, moaning. Breathing hard, he tried to focus his energy on tuning the voices out. He had to be strong. For Merlin. For . . . the real Arthur, wherever he was.

Then he heard Merlin's words (all but background noise now) come to an abrupt stop, and when he looked up, three large, gray, horrifying creatures hovered before him. These were the creatures that had been hurting him all this time. They floated in circles, making Arthur dizzy as he looked into their nothingness-black eyes. Their sharp teeth were bared in an ugly smirk.

"You are ours," they hissed, reaching with long, grotesque fingers to grab at him, "Come to us."

"No," Arthur said, and then again, louder: "_No._"

"Keep distracting them, Arthur!" Merlin called, and Arthur cast a glance at Merlin, panicked.

Merlin's eyes were a bright, beautiful gold, but in them Arthur caught the flash of a smile. Even from his spot across the room he could feel the warmth emanating from his servant, and it was comforting.

Merlin was here. Arthur didn't have to be afraid.

And now it was time to step things up.

"All right, then," he spat, suddenly laughing a bit, "You want me?" He stood up, his confident, mocking smile canceling out his shaking limbs, "Come and get me."

He held out his arms, and the Sunscin creatures descended-gray and black and screeching and terror. And in all the chaos, Arthur heard Merlin's voice, clearer than ever:

"_Abríet._"

There was a sharp flash of color, and with the Sunscins' dying screams a surge of energy seemed to throw itself at Arthur's chest, moving through his very veins. He gasped, falling to the floor again. This was it, he knew. It was ending.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, and Arthur saw his servant running toward him in a blur, kneeling down and lifting his upper body into his arms. This was Merlin; this was safety.

Arthur suddenly thought of falling asleep in the comfort of the warmth that was Merlin. He thought of standing up for what was right in front of his father, of how he'd learned more about himself than he'd ever thought possible. It was all going to go away. Forever.

"Merlin," Arthur gasped, sitting up and clutching at the fabric of Merlin's tunic, "I don't want to forget. I don't want to go . . ."

"Shh," was Merlin's hushed reply in a cracked whisper as he cupped Arthur's face in his hands, "You have to. It's all right. Everything's all right."

"Merlin, I-"

But Arthur didn't have time to finish, for his words were interrupted by Merlin's lips pressed against his own. He felt the boy's arms snake around his neck, pressing him closer in a fiery kiss and a warm embrace. He tasted hot tears and realized faintly that Merlin was crying. With the little strength he had, Arthur kissed back and wondered why they'd both waited so long to do this. Why they'd waited so long to just be with the person each trusted most in the world.

Arthur felt his consciousness slipping away as he heard Merlin's gentle whisper at the nape of his neck: "Whatever happens, you are always my King."

And then everything (once again) went black.


	10. Chapter X

**A/N: Last chapter, everyone. Thanks so much for reading this story. It's the first multi-chapter I've written for Merlin and I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like to read more Merlin-related stuff I've written (or just more of my stuff in general), I have a dreamwidth set up ("juxtapose"). Thanks again!**

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><p>"Arthur?"<p>

Merlin sniffed, smudging some tears out of his eyes with the realization that Arthur was in fact, breathing. He seemed to merely be asleep.

With all his might, Merlin heaved the upper half of Arthur's slumbering frame under his arms and brought the man to his bed, laying him down and tucking him under the covers.

It was over.

Arthur would wake up, confused, and Merlin would have to conveniently dive into an explanation as to how the Prince had hit his royal head and suffered memory loss for a while. Or maybe he'd just been unconscious for a few days. Merlin wasn't sure which lie to tell yet.

He was too busy focusing on the tingling sensation of Arthur's lips on his that still lingered despite the kiss having long come and gone.

Merlin sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. The past few days had brought with them a plethora of emotions that Merlin wasn't sure he could shake now that things would return to normal.

What he'd never owned up to until recent days was the fact that he'd been in love with Arthur for a very long time. He'd just never understood it until now. It had been this new version of the Prince, this strange new man that had helped Merlin to realize the person Arthur really could become in time. With Merlin's help.

That didn't mean, though, that Merlin wouldn't miss the way Arthur had looked at Merlin with such trust and understanding and, well, need. And it didn't mean Merlin could keep himself from looking at Arthur in that way, only to be hurt when he received nothing in return.

"Mmph," said Arthur suddenly.

Merlin looked up, brushing away the remainder of the salty streaks on his face. "Arthur?"

The Prince sat up quickly, immediately lifting a hand to his forehead. "Ugh, ow."

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked hurriedly, peering over Arthur.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Stop fretting over me. What's the matter? You've got that look again: Frightened, pale, scrawny rabbit." His eyes danced teasingly.

Oh, yes. Arthur was back. Merlin smiled through the new tears forming at the edges of his eyes. "Well, at least I don't look like a drenched . . . mouse."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Really, Merlin? I should think you could come up with something better than that to spew from those lips of yours. Considering they were kissing me not too long ago-with a fair amount of skill, might I add." Arthur swung his legs over the side of the bed while Merlin gaped at him stupidly. "Where did you learn how to _do_that, anyway?"

Merlin answered his question with another: "You . . . you _remember_?"

"Yes, Merlin." And suddenly Arthur's eyes were soft, like they'd been only a few minutes ago. "I remember everything."

Any of Merlin's next inquiries were cut off with a kiss from one Prince Arthur Pendragon.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand," Merlin said to the Dragon the following evening, "You said Arthur wouldn't remember any of it."<p>

"If you recall," the Dragon retorted, "I also said your strength and his willpower could change everything. Your combined will to keep those memories was enough to be reflected, if you will, in the spell itself."

"What?" Merlin muttered incredulously, "But how . . . "

The Dragon tilted his head, peering down at Merlin with an aged, experienced look. "You of all people should know, Merlin, that magic is not all about spells and enchantments." He paused to let Merlin ponder this for a moment before finishing, "Arthur was able to retain the memories he'd gained, along with the restoration of the old ones."

Merlin paused, switching the torch he held from one hand to the other. "You say _Arthur _was able to retain the memories," he said slowly. "Like . . . like Arthur himself had never really gone."

"That is correct," the Dragon nodded. "In a sense. The Sunscin creatures never had the opportunity to take Arthur's soul. Only bits and pieces of what he and others considered him to be. Only what he saw when he looked in the mirror. The very essence of the young Pendragon never for a second belonged to the creatures."

"Do you mean . . . that was Arthur all along?"

"It was him from the very beginning, Merlin. A part of you always knew that, even if he did not."

* * *

><p>Prince Arthur Pendragon confidently strolled into his chambers to find Merlin picking up some remaining shattered silver pieces from the previous night's events. He'd just had dinner with Uther and Morgana; the former was certainly quite pleased that his son was back to being his "old self" again (chucked up to one of Gaius' 'miracle remedies'.)<p>

But that was just it. Arthur had previously assumed that regaining his former memories would mean leaving an entirely different person behind, replaced with the original. But that hadn't been the case. In fact, when Arthur awoke that previous evening, he hadn't felt the slightest bit different. Old memories had fused with new, and Arthur understood the ideas and opinions he'd formed in the last few days were valid because they were _his _opinions. And it was then he made the realization (confirmed later by Merlin) that he'd never become a different person at all. He'd never lost the essence of himself.

He strode up behind Merlin, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist from behind. "Hello."

Merlin chuckled a bit, leaning back into his embrace. "We probably shouldn't do this . . . "

"I know." He looked out beyond the curtains onto the kingdom before him. "Things aren't going to be easy. But I learned quite a bit. Losing myself and having to find . . . well, me again. The rest of me. There were only bits and pieces, but with those bits and pieces, with all my prejudices and the strictness, one-sidedness of my upbringing cast away . . . I learned a great deal of what it will entail to rule this kingdom with honor and justice."

Merlin squirmed around in Arthur's arms to face him, smiling broadly. "You're going to be the a great king."

"Mmhm. I know."

Merlin whacked his arm. "Prat."

"Idiot. I _know_," Arthur finished, "Because you're here. I won't be able to do this alone."

Merlin nodded, lacing his fingers with Arthur's. "And you won't have to."

And so they stood together, hearts and hands entwined, heading toward the future of a united Albion.


End file.
